Mary & Narcissus
by the inc pot
Summary: Oneshot: What does a Nymph, a Pope, and someone narcisstic have in common? Emily Gilmore's Halloween Bash


_Echo & Narcissus_

"I've got a proposition for you."

"Sounds kinky," Tristan leered, lazing against the locker neighboring Rory's, "The last time a girl said that to me, her father found us in a _very_ compromising position."

Rory let out a breath of air, and slammed her locker closed, allowing her blue eyes to settle on his face. Shaking her head, she tucked her Social Analogies book into the crook of her right arm, and tapped the toe of her Mary Jane's against the tile of the hallway, "Are you going to listen to me, or are you going to skip down your sexually fulfilled memory lane?"

"Well I suppose I could listen to you just this once."

"Great, my life has now reached the purgatory," she deadpanned, pushing off of her locker and heading down the hall, only stopping to look back at him, "Well, are you coming or what?"

Tristan mocked a sigh of vexation and shoved his hands into his pockets, "If I have to," he told her, tracing her foot steps before stepping into stride beside her, "So, about this proposition—"

"You make one insinuation and my amiability is flying out the window."

"Ooh, it flies?"

"You know what? Forget it. Forget I even said anything," Rory snapped, turning and looking at him, fixing him with an angry glare.

"What'd I do?"

"You were being you!"

"I'm always being me!"

"Go back to wherever the heck you came from."

"You really need to learn how to say hell, Gilmore."

"Go!"

---Gilmore Girls---

Spending eight hours and seven minutes inside of Chilton Academy each day was a treacherous feat that only the strong and fit survive. It was a miracle someone as small as Rory Gilmore could go back each day, seemingly unfathomed by the daunting, off with their heads appearance such a school like Chilton portrayed.

In the beginning, Rory was almost positive Chilton would open up and swallow her whole – but now, reaching her one year anniversary of being a student, she saw Chilton as a mellowed out place to attend school. The teachers, although harsh with a tough grading scale, were relatively nice and accommodating; even if they didn't allow you to retake tests if you got hit by a deer.

"I can't believe my mother is making us go to a Halloween Party," Lorelai moaned, slamming her head against the wood of the kitchen table, "Since when does Emily Gilmore throw Halloween Parties?"

"Since she decided she wanted too?"

"I've decided I don't like smart-alecky Rory."

"Really? Because smart-alecky Rory has decided she doesn't like you," Rory chirped, sticking her tongue out at her mother. Giving her a loveable grin, she disappeared into her bedroom, only to reemerge with a colorful bag, "Have you figured out what you're going as?"

Lorelai let out a sigh, and leaned back against the kitchen chair, crossing her arms over her chest, "Oh, not only have I decided, but I've accessorized. And not only have I accessorized, babe, but I have _accessorized_ to the fullest extent."

"So you haven't decided yet?"

"Nope," Lorelai shook her head, and frowned, "What are _you_ going as?"

Rory grinned, and tossed the bag onto the table in front of her mother, "Look at it."

Raising her eyebrow, Lorelai pulled on an orange piece of fabric prior to pulling the entire costume out, "My good God!" Lorelai cried with glee, "You _aren't_!"

"I _am_!"

"Finally! Ladies and gentlemen! My _real_ daughter has arrived!" Lorelai grinned, and clapped her hands, staring down at the several pieces of fabric that laid before her, "My mother is going to have a heart attack! Thank you! Thank you for making my life!"

Rory grinned, and sat down on the chair across from her mother, "I decided I'd take it up a notch."

"Oh?"

"Mhmm," Rory nodded, "I was going to ask Tristan to be the counterpart, but he couldn't stop being himself for three seconds."

"He was going to be the Narcissus to your Echo?"

"Correct."

"Hey, at least he acts like the myth."

Rory snorted, and attempted to fold her costume, or lack of, into a neat square. "I didn't tell him about it – he got on my nerves, so I sent him packing."

Lorelai sighed, and banged her head against the table once again, "I can't believe my mother is making us bring dates. We should be able to go together so I could wear a slutty costume, too."

"Get dad to go with you."

"What am I going to be? A French maid, and he can be my master?" she asked, letting her groan be muffled by the wood of the table. "Oh, that's it! I'll be a maid!"

"And dad'll be your master?"

"I like new Rory – new Rory has good ideas."

"Right."

"Wait," Lorelai said a few moments later, "Why would you ask Tristan to be your date? I thought you and Dean were back together."

Biting her lip, Rory scratched her forehead, "Uh… he broke up with me."

"_Again_?"

"Again."

"Why this time?"

"I.. uh," letting out a sigh, it was Rory's turn to smack her head against the table, "I.. I kissed Jess."

Gasping, Lorelai stared at Rory, flailing her arms in the air above her head, "You _what_?" she asked, standing and shaking her head, "You _kissed_ Jess? _Jess_? As in Jess _Mariano_? Oh dear God!"

"I know! I_ know_!" Rory cried, covering her face with her hands, "And he saw _it_! He. Saw. _It_!"

"Oh my God, Rory! What possessed you to kiss _Jess_?"

Shrugging, she let out a struggled groan, "I don't know. Spur of the moment?"

"Oh wow," Lorelai breathed, "Was it good? Was the kiss good?"

"Amazing."

"Alright."

"Alright?"

"You kissed Jess, no big deal, right? It only happened once…" she trailed off, scratching the back of her neck, "It _only_ happened once, right?"

"Right," Rory said quickly, nodding her head. "Only once – and that's all. No more kissing Jess, because… because it's weird."

"Why is it weird?"

"Because he's Luke's nephew."

"Right. That is weird." Lorelai agreed, sitting back down in the kitchen chair, and casting a glance at the bag that Rory's costume was residing on top of, "It's a cute costume, kid."

"Thanks."

"So, Luke's?"

"You read my mind."

---Gilmore Girls---

"So, you ever going to tell me about that proposition of yours?" he breathed into her ear, the next morning as he took residence on the locker beside hers.

Rory stared at the metal that made up the back wall of her locker, and tilted her head to the side, "You know, I was thinking about it – but then I thought, 'Hey, Tristan has the capability to be smart – I wonder if I should just drop hints and see if he gets them.' – but then, I really thought about it, and I mean _really_ thought about it…"

"And?"

"And I've decided I'll just ask someone else."

"Ask someone else what?"

"I'm not sure if I can deem you worthy enough to know."

"If it involves a whip, duct tape, and a bed – count me in."

"Well let me just go call up the resident Chilton hooker – Summer, wasn't it?" Rory narrowed her eyes, holding her lunch novel with her right hand as she slammed her locker closed with her left. Tristan's laughter was her response. Letting a short laugh escape her lips, she shook her head, "I'm sure if I just sneak into the boy's bathroom, I could find her number – with a few hundred checks beside her name."

"If only you knew how true that statement was, Mary," he grinned, draping his arm around her shoulder, "Louie, this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship." He smirked when she shrugged his arm off of her shoulders, "So how about you telling me all about that proposition of yours from yesterday?"

Stopping in the middle of the hallway, she stared at Tristan, "How fast can you find a toga?" she asked seriously, her eyes connecting with his.

"Animal House?"

"Oh yeah, and I'll play the dean's wife." She deadpanned, shaking her head. "No."

"Pretty fast – but if you don't mind my asking, what's the need for a toga?"

Rory glanced at the remaining people in the hall, before letting out a sigh, "C'mere," she said, grabbing a hold of his elbow, and pulling him towards the library. Once inside, she halted him by the nonfiction section, "I need you to do me the biggest favor."

Raising his eyebrows in question, Tristan tilted his head to the side, and smirked, "And what's the favor, Mary?"

Groaning, Rory shifted from foot to foot, "I need a date to my grandmother's Halloween Party."

"Oh?" Rory nodded in response, "Why not ask Bagboy?"

Rory sighed, and ran her hand through her hair, "He broke up with me."

"Again?"

"Uh huh."

"Idiot."

"Right," Rory said, biting down on her lower lip, "So… will you?"

"Sure."

"That's it? I don't need to beg? Grovel? Enrapture myself into an eternity of self-inflicted debt?"

"No – my parents were making me go anyway, so I might as well have a pretty date, right?"

"Yeah."

"So a toga, huh? I get no say in the costume?"

"Nope."

"A toga."

"Feeling a little shy are we, DuGrey?"

"Not in the slightest—I'm just not sure if you'll be able to resist the urge to swoon for a long period of time while in the same room with my God-like physique."

"It's not your body I'm worried about fitting in the same room with; it's your ego."

"Ouch, you sure know how to inflict pain with words."

"It's a gift."

"Among other things, I'm sure."

"Oh, give the boy a prize." Rory deadpanned, crossing her arms, her grip on her book tightening. "Pick me up at seven tomorrow night? At my house."

"Okay."

"Do you remember how to get there?"

"I'll manage, I'm sure."

"Okay…" she said nodding, glancing towards the clock above the library door, "Thanks, Tristan… this means a lot."

"No problem," he smirked, "What are friends for?"

"Yeah," she agreed with a genuine smile, "What are friends for?"

---Gilmore Girls---

"Mom! Why aren't you ready?" Rory called from the bathroom, her curling iron wrapped in a section of chocolate brown hair, "Mom?"

Lorelai sidled into the bathroom, wearing jeans and a t-shirt, and a pop-tart in hand, "I'm not going," she said, a frown forming on her face as she opened the silver plastic, uncovering the cinnamon pop-tart, "Your dad is sick – like, fever sick."

Rory frowned, loosening her hair from around the steaming hot curling iron. Flipping the switch off, she admired the final product of loose curls before looking at her mother through the mirror, "Ask Luke to go. Apologize for it being so last second."

Lorelai shook her head and sighed, "No, you go on ahead – I don't want to face Emily's wrath tonight anyway."

"Okay," Rory shrugged, applying glue to twig-like, fake eyelashes. Aligning them with her eyelid, she placed it on, and held it there, "Are you sure? I mean, Luke would probably go with you if you asked… Nicely."

"I'm _always _nice."

Rory snorted with laughter as she placed on the final twig eyelashes on her eyelid, "What about that time Luke threatened not to give you coffee, and actually went through with it? You weren't nice when you called him words I don't care to repeat."

Lorelai scoffed, tossing the pop-tart wrapper into the trash bin, "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Right." Rory laughed, bobby-pinning a silk flower into her hair, "Will you get the sandals that go with this out of my room?" she asked her mother politely, smoothing out non-existent wrinkles from her costume.

"Sure thing, babe."

Rory stared at her reflection in the mirror, asking herself how in the hell she'd gotten herself into this mess in the first place. And then she remembered – it all started by answering the damn, ringing telephone a week and a half ago. She really had to start listening to her mother, and let the answering machine get the phone before she answered.

"Here they are." Lorelai said, handing over the woodland looking, kitten heeled sandals.

"Thanks," Rory smiled, taking them from her mother, and placing each sandal on their rightful foot. "How do I look?" she asked, twirling around as she made her way into the foyer.

"Like a nymph."

"Jee, thanks."

"Hey, it's your costume, Echo."

"Yeah, yeah." Rory laughed, walking into the living room and glancing towards her pea coat, "What time is it?"

"Six fifty eight." Lorelai told her, fishing through the drawers on the desk. "Aha!" she cried triumphantly, pulling out a disposable camera, "Ooh, and there's even twenty one pictures left on it," she grinned as she looked the camera over before turning to Rory.

"Oh no."

"Oh yes."

"_Mom_," Rory groaned, crossing her arms over her chest, "You're kidding me."

"This is going in the scrap book."

"Oh, God."

"Say coffee!" Lorelai laughed, snapping a picture of Rory with her arms crossed, her weight resting on her left leg. "Aw come on, Nymph-o, smile for mommy." She said happily as the doorbell dinged throughout the house.

"Don't you dare!" Rory cried, racing her mother to the door to get there before her. Cutting her mother off right in front of the door, she threw it open, her back turned to the door, "Ha! I beat you!"

"Aw, Mary, if I'd known your mother was into me, I would have agreed to this much sooner."

Rory closed her eyes, and inwardly counted to three, before turning around to face him, "Ooh, its Trissy!" she cried, clapping her hands together in mock happiness. She placed a smile on her face, and tilted her head to the side, " Did I mention that I'm so glad you weren't blind sighted by a truck on your way here, Tristan?" she deadpanned, opening the door wider, allowing him room to come in.

"Your love for me astounds me."

"Get used to it, Narcissus."

"Ah, so that's who we are tonight," Tristan grinned, giving Rory a once over, allowing his eyes to settle on her legs, before working their way back up towards her face, "I must say, Mary, that you're looking very… woodsy."

"Pictures!" Lorelai squealed, motioning for Tristan to take his jacket off, "Off with your coat, Bible Boy – I want pictures of this."

"Ah, you must be the infamous Lorelai; Rory has told me so little about you."

Lorelai rose her eyebrows, and nodded, "Right."

---Gilmore Girls---

"Rory, you made it!" Emily Gilmore greeted her only granddaughter as she opened the door, clad in a Lucille Ball get-up, "Here, let Gisele take your jacket," she smiled as Tristan walked up behind Rory, "Rory is this your date?"

Rory glanced behind her, and nodded, "Grandma, this is Tristan DuGrey."

"Pleasure to see you again, Mrs. Gilmore," Tristan smiled, shrugging his jacket off and handing it, along with Rory's, to the maid.

Emily straightened herself to her fullest extent, and smiled smugly, "Rory, you're dating a DuGrey? How respectable." She said, before allowing herself to take in the two, young adults appearances. "And what have you come as?"

"Narcissus, and Echo," Tristan supplied quickly, placing his hand at the small of Rory's back; "You look amazing—Lucille Ball has nothing on you, Mrs. Gilmore."

Emily laughed, and shook her head politely, as Richard came up behind her, placing his hand on his wife's shoulder, "Rory!" He greeted before taking in Tristan at her side, "Tristan! How nice to see you, son. Alls well with Janlan, I hope?"

"Fit as a fiddle." Tristan smirked, "Rory, would you like a drink?"

Rory nodded, "I'll see you later grandma, grandpa."

Tristan placed his hand on the small of Rory's back again, and led her further into her grandparent's home. He grinned at the feeling of her bare flesh against the palm of his hand, "See, Mary," he breathed in her ear, "Your grandparent's love me."

"By default."

"Meaning?"

"You're one of them." She answered coolly, stopping in front of the makeshift bar, "And by being one of them," she continued after ordering a club soda from the bartender, "you're automatically in their good-graces."

"They hated Bagboy, huh?"

"You bet."

"Glad I'm not the only one." He muttered, watching her take a long sip of her club soda.

"Tristan," Rory warned, narrowing her eyes and setting her glass on the bar, "Why do you hate him anyway? He never did anything to you in the first place – you started the fight."

"The guy was a jerk!" Rory gave him a look as she crossed her arms over her bare midriff, "And okay, so was I – but seriously, you could do so much better than him."

"Like who?"

"Like me!" Tristan sighed, exasperated. He took her by the forearm and forced her to follow him throughout the house on a wild goose chase for an empty room.

Upon finding her grandfather's study open, he led her inside; shutting the door behind them, and locking it. He stared at her for a second, trying to gather the words he wanted to say before he said them. He moved his eyes along the walls lined with vintage novels, pictures, and his framed Yale diploma.

"Well?" Rory asked, tapping her foot impatiently as she fidgeted with sheer chiffon pieces of her costume.

"Look," he said, stroking his scalp with his hand, "Dean just broke up with you again; and we all know I wasn't attached to anyone."

"And?"

"And I think we need to get to know each other on a more personal level—I don't get a kick out of sucking face with a girl in front of your locker, but I just… God, you ignore me and I'm not used to that."

"Maybe you should adjust yourself then."

"Rory," he snapped holding his forehead in his hands, "I like you. I want there to be an us." He said, motioning at the space between them, "We took a step forward at the party, and then we took two hundred steps back! I'm sick of the chase, Rory. I don't want there to be a chase anymore!"

"Well no one's making you waste your time on me, Tristan! No one said, 'Hey, there's that Gilmore girl – I hear she's an impossible catch; you better try to nail her before you graduate from Chilton'!"

"Well obviously no one would say that, Rory! Jesus Christ!" He sighed, and took a step towards her, "But I'm interested in you. I want you in so many ways but you're just too damn fucking oblivious to see it."

"Right." She scoffed, "And the Pope is standing right outside the door."

"It's a costume party, Rory, do you really want to test what you just said?"

Rory narrowed her eyes, and reached forward, pushing him backwards, and away from her, "God, I thought we could come here together as friends, but obviously I was wrong!"

"How were you wrong?"

"You're preaching to the choir, Tristan! You go from 'Hey-my-parents-are-out-of-town-this-weekend-wanna-fuck' socialite, to 'Hey-I-want-to-be-in-a-serious-relationship-with-you' guy in like five minutes! You don't even know what you want!"

"Shut up!"

"Make me, Tristan! You know everything I'm saying is right! And you can't stand for one minute that maybe someone other than you for once is actually making more sense then you are! Get _over_ yourself!"

"Me? Get over _my_self? You're not exactly all high and mighty, either, Rory!" He growled, his eyes narrowing dangerously at her, "You break up with Dean one day, and the next you're kissing me!"

"And I ran out of the room crying! Does that _not_ tell you something Tristan?"

"It tells me that you're an emotional train wreck, that's what it tells me, _Mary_!" Dropping into a leather armchair, Tristan let out a perturbed sigh. He stroked the cool leather with his fingertips as he looked Rory over, his eyes tracing her silhouette, "I don't want to fight with you, Rory."

"You started it."

"Look," he said calmly, "I just want one, single chance to prove to you I'm not a horrible guy."

"Fine."

"Fine?"

"Yeah," she said, sitting on the study table, and crossing her legs, "One night won't kill me, I suppose."

Tristan smirked, his system finally cooling off after working overtime, "I can't believe you came dressed as a nymph."

"And I can't believe you came dressed as yourself in a previous life," she shot back, an easy smile on her face.

"Ha, ha; real Funny –" knock, knock "– Mare." Glancing towards the door, he rose an eyebrow before motioning for her to unlock the door to the study. "Answer it."

"Why me?"

"It's your grandparent's house."

Rory groaned; standing and making her short journey towards the mahogany door. She unlocked it easily before turning the door knob, opening the door to reveal a man dressed as Pope Leo VII on the other side, "Oh now isn't this just comical," Rory muttered under her breath, "Can I help you, sir?"

"Uh," he started uncomfortably, "Richard said I would be able to find his best cigars in here."

"Right, well, we were just on our way out, excuse us," Tristan said, coming to stand at the door with Rory and the older man, before grasping her hand and pulling her out of the study, stifling a laugh. "Oh, Mare," he grinned, "What is it with us an Biblical references?"

"Your guess is as good as mine."

---END---

Author's Note: This is a response to a challenge that I agreed to on January first, and I've just now gotten finished with it. I'm not as thrilled as I could be about this, but hey – usually my attempts at one-shots become feature length fanfictions.

Read, and definitely review.


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